thorr97
Banned
Well I'll be damned. I was sure Metricization didn't take place in the US military or aerospace industry for decades later.
I was wrong.
Well I'll be damned. I was sure Metricization didn't take place in the US military or aerospace industry for decades later.
I was wrong.
Not entirely. It looks like temperature is the only Meticized measure. I mean, pressure is still in Inches of Mercury for goodness sake, which is about as esoteric (yet simple of you think about it) and really meaningless as you can get.
thorr97
Banned
Yeah, none of that makes much sense. I'm genuinely surprised that US aircraft companies in the 1930s/ 40s would've been using anything Metric. And especially surprised they'd have mixed the two. So, go figure!
So, for the next update we have a couple options and I am not sure which way to go. Delivery of the P-38F to Wright Field (our first long flight, possibly at the hands of Tony LeVier), a catch-up of what's going on over seas and planning for P-38F deployment, first impressions and pre-combat experiences as units begin training in the new airplane, skipping ahead to P-38G development (F10 engines and B-13 turbos), or take a real helluva time lapse and get into combat.
I can do any or all of the above. I am inclined to take it slow, as we have been, but I don't want all of you to loose interest through a long pre-combat development so I am asking all of you what you'd like to see.
I can do any or all of the above. I am inclined to take it slow, as we have been, but I don't want all of you to loose interest through a long pre-combat development so I am asking all of you what you'd like to see.
Puzzle
Donor
I for one would like to start seeing the impact of the upgraded P-38s. You've shown an impressive amount of detail thus far, but I'll admit a decent amount of the intricacies don't mean much to me. However, I'm just one reader and I've enjoyed what you've put out so far, so feel free to disregard my input and keep on going as you've began.
EverKing take it as slow as you want and all of the above sounds like the best approach to me. Lots of fine detail and interesting events. No need to hurry and possibly diminish the quality of your excellent alternate time line. This is certainly the best thread on the P-38 that I've seen in this forum. The number of views and replies would bear that out.
marathag
Banned
It got cold in the Pacific for OTL P-38 pilots as well
the temp factor is around 3 degrees Fahrenheit per Thousand feet. So if 70°F at SL it would be 10°F at 20,000, but this varied with humidity, and could be less.
Luftwaffe crews in twin engine A/C had electrically heated suits, since they also didn't have engine heat
Driftless
Donor
I'm enjoying the details and learning as you unfold the tale. I'm also enjoying the point-counterpoint discussions you're having with some of our more knowledgeable members.
The USAAC used a similar system for the crews of multi-engine aircraft. Imagine flying at 20,000+ feet over the North Sea and standing next to an open window, year round, the lot of B-17 waist gunner.
The 'devil is in the detail' as the saying goes and you have this devil firmly by the tail (pun intended) and I would suggest just keep on writing what catches your imagination. this is not only a really good time line but also very illuminating into how small differences fro OTL can butterfly. Just crack on, I for one will follow wherever/however you go with this time line anticipating each update and the discussion it begat's.
Sounds like the general consensus is for me to "stay the course" so to speak, which is great by me. As excited as I am to get the improved P-38 into combat I don't want to rush into it and there are more stories to tell building up to it. So, expect the next post to be delivery of the P-38F to Wright Airfield.
Yup. American Airmen called them "bunny suits." The eventual "solution" to the P-38 heat problem was to re-direct the gun-compartment heater to the cockpit and install an electrical outlet so pilots could use such a heated suit. Never was a good solution, mind you, but it is what they had OTL.
der gabelschwanz teufel?
(my bold)
Hear, hear
Installation of the second generator provided surplus electric power, that enabled electric heating of guns, thus all warm/hot air could now (Spring of 1944, just when P-38 was not that needed) be used to heat up the cockpit; a solution that worked. Link (heating specifics at pg. 3 and 4):
http://www.wwiiaircraftperformance.org/p-38/P-38J_performance_11march44.pdf
The missions they flew in the South Pacific were rarely much above 20,000 feet for extended periods and usually much lower. When they were at that altitude of 20K feet with an air temperature of 10 degrees fahrenheit even the inadequate cockpit heating can supply enough heat. Add the tropical sun shining into the cockpit from almost overhead and you don't get the same frigid conditions as were experienced in Northern Europe with flying in minus 50 degree fahrenheit air for 6 to 8 hours.
For the ETO an electrically heated suit will help a lot. The pilot doesn't get hypothermia or frostbite. But it won't prevent the cockpit from becoming cold soaked. It can't keep the hands warm and flexible so heavy bulky gloves must still be worn. It won't prevent the various knobs, levers and switches from becoming stiff. Perhaps worse of all it won't keep the canopy clear of ice forming on it from the pilot's breath.
Eventually Lockheed solved that problem and a few others as well in mid-1944 with the production of the P-38-J. I think it would have been better to have been fixed a year or more earlier.
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That is correct. The heat which used to be pumped into the Armament compartment was then re-directed to the cockpit. Unfortunately, the air itself still wasn't overly hot so the best they could get at extreme altitude was "less cold" than it previously was which is, in addition to this, they did also add a plug for a bunny suit.
Direct from the P-38 Pilot Instruction Manual for H, J, L, and F-5B models:
marathag
Banned
Yet the Japanese aircrew had those nice fur lined flying suits and helmets that would have not been comfortable at lower levels
Ch.8 - P-38F Delivery to Wright Field (Apr 1942)
Ok, it is a little long but I had some fun with it. For those hoping for quick action, I'm sorry, this is mostly devoid of drama--but it is important to lay the ground work for a couple essential modifications that need to happen soon. Read carefully and you'll figure it out
14 April 1942
Burbank, California, USA
For the past year Lockheed pilot Tony LeVier had been flying Hudson bombers. First, he was ferrying them up to Canada for the Royal Air Force and more recently as a pilot instructor on the type. The Hudson was a fine airplane but for the former Air-Racer it provided little excitement. Being one of the younger and less tenured test pilots at Lockheed he was not afforded the opportunity to take part in their high-performance programs even though his former experience spoke highly of his ability.
That all changed when Ralph Virden had been grounded for a few weeks the previous December. Milo Burcham, the chief engineering test pilot, had tapped Tony to back fill flying duties as everything was shuffled around to fill the gap Virden’s temporary absence left near the top. He had not yet earned his place in the testing and development team but he was at least flying P-38’s now and in his role as “delivery boy” Tony had proved himself a suitable liaison between the Army test pilots in Ohio and the Lockheed pilots in California.
Today his job was to ferry the first production P-38F, Army Aircraft Number 41-2293, across the continent to the Army Air Forces’ testing ground at Wright Airfield in Ohio and it would be his first ride in the newly updated Interceptor.
The airplane was freshly maintained, having just undergone Acceptance Tests a few days prior, and clean as anything fresh off the floor. Its log book showed five flights to-date for a total of 12 hours in the air. Tony was impressed with how much cleaner the airplane looked without the bulging radiator scoops on the booms and with its newly streamlined canopy and central nacelle.
Slung beneath the center wings were two 165 gallon fuel tanks which more than doubled the airplane’s fuel capacity. With them filled the flight engineers and Tony worked together to calculate the best route and engine settings for the flight. The Army was concerned that the increased weight of the new airplane would cost some range so Lockheed was determined to put the fears to rest.
Based on the performance data the team gathered a few days prior they calculated that at a Maximum Cruise setting of 2300 RPM with the throttle at 35 inches at 20,000 feet Tony should be able to keep fuel consumption down to just over 60 gallons per hour, per engine. That would give 293 enough range to make Forbes Field in Topeka, Kansas in about four hours with a plenty of reserve. From there, he can refuel and grease over to Wright Field in Ohio in just an hour and half at full Rated Power.
The idea of covering two-thirds of the continent in five and half hours was certainly tempting to Tony but he reigned in his excitement knowing that he had a better flight plan in mind. He had met Lt.Col. Ben Kelsey a few weeks ago when he was on-site discussing the P-38 and its possible range issues. After the informal meeting with several of the Lockheed engineers and pilots, Kelsey and Tony and joined each other for a beer to share their stories of speed and daring. When Tony was making a name for himself as in the Air Racing circuit—winning the Greve Trophy in 1938 and narrowly missing the prestigious Thompson Trophy in 1939—Ben Kelsey was working with Lockheed to develop what would become the P-38. It was Kelsey who came up with the specifications that would inspire Kelly Johnson to build his Model 22 and it was Kelsey who raced the XP-38 prototype to a new Cross-Continental record in 1939.
Together they devised a plan: if the engine power calibration from the performance tests bared out the Allison estimates and was similar to the power and specific consumption of the previous model, then Tony would deliver the P-38F directly to Wright Field, non-stop.
Tony liked the idea but was nervous about running a “stunt” flight without Burcham’s and Johnson’s permission. They were both understandably gun-shy about such flights after Kelsey destroyed the XP-38 on his record flight. Kelsey, however, knew a way to convince them it would be more than a stunt.
In their talks, Kelsey had posed the idea of ferrying aircraft directly to Europe under their own power, something he was trying to convince the War Department was not only feasible but essential to quickly build up the Air Force’s presence without having the run the gauntlet of shipping through the North Atlantic. Bringing B-17’s was one thing, but the War Department was doubtful of bringing any fighters over the long trans-Atlantic route. If Tony could deliver the P-38 directly to Ohio from California, a distance of nearly 2000 miles, then Lt.Col. Kelsey’s job of convincing the Army would be that much easier.
With this new directive in mind, Tony stopped Milo Burcham after the flight-planning meeting. “Milo, a moment?”
Sending the others on their way, Milo turned back to Tony, “What do you need, Tony?”
“I was talking with Ben Kelsey a few weeks back and he wants to convince the Army to fly Lightnings to England with the bombers but they aren’t convinced a fighter can make the trip.”
Suspicious that he knew where his subordinate was going with this, Milo responded, “What do you have in mind?”
“He wants us to try to fly direct to Wright Field.” Seeing that Milo was about to voice an objection, Tony continued, “Look, I’ve crunched the numbers and we can make it.” He handed Milo his notes and as Milo reviewed them he summarized, “I can set the throttles at thirty inches and the props at 2000 RPM, from your test data that will give me over five-hundred horsepower per engine at twenty-thousand feet. If Allison and the test data is correct, that should drop consumption to less than fifty gallons per hour per engine and I should be able to make Wright in less than seven hours with fuel to spare.”
“Why didn’t you discuss this during the flight planning?”
“Kelsey doesn’t want to risk bad press so he thought it best we organize it so only a few of us know it is happening.”
“Okay, let’s see what The Boss says.”
Kelly Johnson was less receptive.
“You want to fly another damn stunt with my airplane?”
“It’s not a stunt, Mister Johnson,” Tony clarified, “it’s a proof-of-performance request from Lieutenant-Colonel Kelsey.”
Kelly steamed, “If Ben Kelsey wants a new performance test he can send the order himself.”
“Look, Kelly,” Milo jumped in, attempting to soothe Kelly’s ruffled feathers, “don’t look at it as a ‘stunt’ but as an opportunity to show the Army we have a war-winner. Plus, you know the Navy has been sniffing around for long-range fighters—we could use this to sell them on the idea of using P-38’s.”
“Kelsey cost us our XP with his and Arnold’s damn stunt, why should we risk the 422 on more of the same?”
“We have dozens of 422’s ready for delivery with hundreds more on the way. Plus, remember it was that ‘damn stunt’ that prompted the Army to order the P-38 in the first place. We’d probably be building P-40’s for Curtiss if that didn’t happen.”
Johnson fumed at Milo but knew he was right. “Alright. I’ll go along with this scheme on two conditions.” He turned to address Tony LeVier, “One, that you over-fly Topeka and if your fuel is below two-thirds you land the damn plane and refuel!”
“Absolutely.”
“And, two,” Kelly turned back to Milo Burcham, “you get Ben Kelsey on the phone so I can have a few words with him.”
* * *
The Allisons were warm and runway 26 was clear of traffic.
At 10:08 AM, Tony LeVier turned the airplane’s power up to 3000 RPM and full Military Power at 47 inches of manifold pressure. Once all four needles were at their desired place, he released the brakes and it felt like someone hit him with a shovel as he was thrown back into his seat. Over 2,600 total horsepower from the two engines propelled all eight-tons of the fuel laden 293 down the runway. After less than a quarter mile ground run he was indicating more than 100 miles per hour and he rotated the airplane, pulling back on the yoke to lift it into the air.
Once clear and with his gear and flaps up, he rolled into a slow climbing circle to the left until his heading was 57 degrees. He brought the throttles back to 44 inches and dropped the RPM to 2800 to gain 10,000 feet as quickly as possible so that he could clear the San Gabriel Mountains to the east then brought them back further to save fuel as he continued a slow climb. He was well clear of the mountains and still climbing—now breathing low-pressure oxygen on AUTO-MIX which should give him at least seven hours—when he reached his target altitude of 20,000 feet. He leveled the airplane off and waited for his airspeed to indicate 240 miles per hour then throttled back to his cruise settings of 30 inches pressure and 2000 RPM, moving his mixture back to AUTO-LEAN.
After fine-tuning the airplane—trimming it up, adjusting the throttles and his altitude to accommodate for the airspeed and altimeter installation errors, and adjusting his course to compensate for compass correction—he checked his watch again to see it was 10:25 AM. He reached his left hand back to turn the stiff fuel-selector valves off of RESERVE. He set the left engine to draw from the left external tank, and turned the right engine selector to CROSS SUCTION so it would also draw from the left external tank.
The external tanks had no fuel level indicators so he had to rely on timing and math to get the most out of them. He figured with 165 gallons at an overestimated consumption of 42 gallons per hour per engine he should be able to get 1 hours 50 minutes from each tank, with a 5 minute per tank cushion. This meant that he would need to switch to the right external tank at 12:15 PM and to his MAIN tanks at 2:05 PM, not adjusting for time zones.
The 93 gallon main tanks each supply their own engine and he should get about 2 hour 10 minutes from them, getting him to 4:15 PM. If he can maintain an indicated speed of 240 mph at this altitude that corrects to about 231 mph which works out to a True Airspeed at 20,000 feet of 311 mph, that will allow him to cover the 1,900 miles remaining to Wright Field in just over six hours, putting him there seventeen minutes after his MAINs run dry.
A glance at his Fuel Quantity gauge for the Reserve Tanks Tony saw that he had used about 30 gallons from each during his warm-up, take-off, and climb. He calculated that he could run on them for an additional forty-two minutes. Less the seventeen he needed to get to Wright Field meant he really only had a twenty-five minute reserve in the tanks plus about two minutes of fuel in the lines and around 10 minutes left over in the sump of the external tanks.
He will certainly be cutting it close the airplane should make it. The goal was to cross Forbes Field in Topeka between 2:05 PM and 2:10 PM. If he is any later than 2:15 PM, Milo recommended he reduce RPM to 1700 to conserve fuel at the cost of some speed. Kelly Johnson had put a hard limit of 2:25 PM on his time to Topeka, if he does not make it past Topeka before then Tony is ordered to land at Forbes Field and re-fuel then “sprint” to Wright Field, as originally planned.
At 11:07 AM, Tony and 293 passed over the Colorado River just north of Bullhead City. It was the first major landmark he had passed that could give him an idea of his progress and it looked promising. He was running about 11 miles per hour faster than indicated and about 15 miles north. He figured he must have a tail wind hitting him from about five o’clock and pushing him along.
Fifteen minutes later and he was passing one of the broad southern diversions of the Grand Canyon. The river was buried in the shadows of the deep gorge, just barely discernable through the ever-present blue haze of the air below him. When he passed over a second southward bend of the canyon a few minutes later, he adjusted his course a few degrees east so 293 was now heading 60 degrees.
He continued flying over the rugged desert of the southwest, watching his instruments and keeping an eye on his stopwatch. When the time came, he swapped his fuel so that the right engine drew from the right drop-tank and the left was now on CROSS SUCTION.
One trick he learned on his long flights ferrying Hudsons was to keep a vacuum flask of broth or soup in the cockpit. Having a warm meal helped to keep him alert and comfortable—made even more necessary on this flight at such an altitude. As he approached a southern spur of the Rocky Mountains the air grew colder than it had been in the desert sun and Tony took this time to pour a cup of the chicken soup he had brought along to warm his belly. After ten minutes off of oxygen he could feel the first hint of hypoxic fogginess so he polished off his cup and pulled his mask so it was once more tightly around his face.
At 1:09 PM he had left the mountain spur behind him and was passing near the Army Air Field in La Junta, Colorado. He was still tracking a few minutes ahead of schedule and needed a 10 degree course change to ensure he would cross Topeka, still about 430 miles away at 70 degrees. If his reckoning were correct, 16 minutes after passing La Junta he should be half-way to Wright Field.
The cockpit temperature continued to drop as he few farther into the mid-western prairies. With the airplane fully trimmed it practically flew itself so Tony was able take breaks to stomp his feet and rub his hands on his thighs to keep circulation flowing and coax a little warmth back into his extremities. The mixed oxygen from the low-pressure system helped a little as it at least allowed warm air into his lungs. Still, he grew more uncomfortable with each hour.
The soup broth and the cold brought on a new problem: the urgent need to empty his bladder. This forced him to go through the awkward procedure of opening his flying suit and using the “Pilot Relief Tube” secured at the front of his seat. It worked, for the most part, but trying to adjust himself in such a way as to get the funnel around the several layers of insulation he was wearing made the task more difficult than it otherwise would be. When he was done he breathed a sigh of relief that at least he would not have frozen urine soaked into his suit.
His more easterly heading over Kansas flew him into a humid crosswind coming up from the south. The air was too cold to build much power but the ground was lost under a gray carpet of low clouds and the Gulf air condensed in the chill air over the southern prairie. A minor adjustment of his rudder trim skid the plane enough to maintain his course but he knew it would cost him more fuel.
He switched his radio to receive on the pre-set channel for Forbes Field, listening in to catch the signal of unique dashes and dots which identified the airfield. What he did not realize, was that he had pre-set the radio on the wrong frequency.
* * *
Burbank, California, USA
2:30 PM Pacific Time
Hall Hibbard might have a problem on his hands. He had just been forwarded an emergency phone call from Forbes Field outside Topeka, Kansas, that Tony LeVier and the P-38F was over forty minutes late for his scheduled refueling stop and that they had been unable to raise him on radio.
He sent a runner to find Milo Burcham and in the meantime had his assistants get a copy of the flight plan from the filing office. The flight plan revealed that LeVier was to fly direct to Forbes Fields, via La Junta Army Airfield in Colorado.
He called La Junta first and they confirmed that an airplane identifying as “Army Two-Nine-Three” had checked in at 14:10 Mountain Time. Referencing the flight plan, Hall noted that at the planned speed, LeVier should have cleared La Junta twenty minutes before that. He could only hope Milo would have the answers.
A few minutes later, at 2:50 PM, Milo Burcham came to Hall’s office accompanied by Kelly Johnson. As soon as Hall saw them together, he knew they had pulled the wool over his eyes.
“What the hell is going on!?”
In answer, Kelly handed Hall the Western Union telegram he had been holding.
XXXXXXX BURBANK CALIF APR 14 1942 924AM
LOCKHEED CORPORATION=
:C.K.JOHNSON
KELLY,
FORMALLY REQUEST LONG RANGE FLIGHT TEST NONSTOP TO WRIGHT ON DELIVERY TODAY=
LT COL B.S.KELSEY=
:MATERIEL COMMAND USAAF=
* * *
Above Indiana, USA
5:55 PM Central Time
Tony LeVier never did get a hold of Forbes Field so he settled on simple dead reckoning to keep his course. As the cloud floor broke up east of the Mississippi he was able to get a better idea of where he was when sighted Springfield a few miles to the north. A slight easterly turn and he was pointed toward Dayton, Ohio and wright field.
Now, with his clock reading 3:55 PM California time he was passing Indianapolis. His Fuel Quantity gauge for the main tanks read less than 10 gallons remaining in each, or about 12 minutes flight time. Indianapolis was still 120 miles from Wright Field. Although he was still indicating over 235 mph the wind had shifted to his two-o’clock so he was sure his ground speed was a bit less than 300 mph. That should put him at Wright in 25 minutes.
He should make it.
Comfortable with his fuel load and drawing closer to his destination he decided he could spare a little extra burn to get down to some warmer air. Nosing down a few degrees he brought 293 all the way down to 9,000 feet where he could turn off his oxygen and try to thaw the ice blocks that were his toes.
Once down he switched his tank selectors back to RESERVE for both engines—his last fuel switch of the long flight—and set is radio to the Wright Airfield frequency. This time, he had it correct and almost immediately started to hear sporadic chatter from the busy airfield.
When Tony saw Wright Airfield materialize out of the horizonal haze his lips curled into a smile. A glance at his RESERVE tank levels told him he still had about 30 minutes of fuel and only five minutes of flight. His smirk broadened to a full grin, “Then again, that should be just enough…”
“Wright Tower, Army Two-Nine-Three. Request pressure altitude.”
The modulated voice crackled through his earpiece, “Army Two-Nine-Three, Wright Tower. Altimeter three-zero-point-zero-eight.”
“Three-zero-zero-eight, roger.”
After adjusting his altimeter to the proper setting and getting clearance to land, Tony did something he had not originally planned to do but that his excitement and relief demanded.
Moving his mixture controls up to AUTO-RICH, he increased RPM to 3000 and pushed his throttles up to 47 inches while nosing over. His altimeter dropped as he approached the field and his speed climbed, the Allisons sucking down the fuel at almost four times the rate they were on his cruise. He screamed over the airfield doing 350 mph at 500 feet and turned the airplane in a graceful celebratory roll as he passed the tower.
At 7:28 PM Eastern Time as the sun sank toward the western horizon, Tony and 41-2293 came to a stop on the bitumen at Wright Field. Tony was greeted by a smiling Ben Kelsey and '293 had less than 5 minutes of fuel in her.
14 April 1942
Burbank, California, USA
For the past year Lockheed pilot Tony LeVier had been flying Hudson bombers. First, he was ferrying them up to Canada for the Royal Air Force and more recently as a pilot instructor on the type. The Hudson was a fine airplane but for the former Air-Racer it provided little excitement. Being one of the younger and less tenured test pilots at Lockheed he was not afforded the opportunity to take part in their high-performance programs even though his former experience spoke highly of his ability.
That all changed when Ralph Virden had been grounded for a few weeks the previous December. Milo Burcham, the chief engineering test pilot, had tapped Tony to back fill flying duties as everything was shuffled around to fill the gap Virden’s temporary absence left near the top. He had not yet earned his place in the testing and development team but he was at least flying P-38’s now and in his role as “delivery boy” Tony had proved himself a suitable liaison between the Army test pilots in Ohio and the Lockheed pilots in California.
Today his job was to ferry the first production P-38F, Army Aircraft Number 41-2293, across the continent to the Army Air Forces’ testing ground at Wright Airfield in Ohio and it would be his first ride in the newly updated Interceptor.
The airplane was freshly maintained, having just undergone Acceptance Tests a few days prior, and clean as anything fresh off the floor. Its log book showed five flights to-date for a total of 12 hours in the air. Tony was impressed with how much cleaner the airplane looked without the bulging radiator scoops on the booms and with its newly streamlined canopy and central nacelle.
Slung beneath the center wings were two 165 gallon fuel tanks which more than doubled the airplane’s fuel capacity. With them filled the flight engineers and Tony worked together to calculate the best route and engine settings for the flight. The Army was concerned that the increased weight of the new airplane would cost some range so Lockheed was determined to put the fears to rest.
Based on the performance data the team gathered a few days prior they calculated that at a Maximum Cruise setting of 2300 RPM with the throttle at 35 inches at 20,000 feet Tony should be able to keep fuel consumption down to just over 60 gallons per hour, per engine. That would give 293 enough range to make Forbes Field in Topeka, Kansas in about four hours with a plenty of reserve. From there, he can refuel and grease over to Wright Field in Ohio in just an hour and half at full Rated Power.
The idea of covering two-thirds of the continent in five and half hours was certainly tempting to Tony but he reigned in his excitement knowing that he had a better flight plan in mind. He had met Lt.Col. Ben Kelsey a few weeks ago when he was on-site discussing the P-38 and its possible range issues. After the informal meeting with several of the Lockheed engineers and pilots, Kelsey and Tony and joined each other for a beer to share their stories of speed and daring. When Tony was making a name for himself as in the Air Racing circuit—winning the Greve Trophy in 1938 and narrowly missing the prestigious Thompson Trophy in 1939—Ben Kelsey was working with Lockheed to develop what would become the P-38. It was Kelsey who came up with the specifications that would inspire Kelly Johnson to build his Model 22 and it was Kelsey who raced the XP-38 prototype to a new Cross-Continental record in 1939.
Together they devised a plan: if the engine power calibration from the performance tests bared out the Allison estimates and was similar to the power and specific consumption of the previous model, then Tony would deliver the P-38F directly to Wright Field, non-stop.
Tony liked the idea but was nervous about running a “stunt” flight without Burcham’s and Johnson’s permission. They were both understandably gun-shy about such flights after Kelsey destroyed the XP-38 on his record flight. Kelsey, however, knew a way to convince them it would be more than a stunt.
In their talks, Kelsey had posed the idea of ferrying aircraft directly to Europe under their own power, something he was trying to convince the War Department was not only feasible but essential to quickly build up the Air Force’s presence without having the run the gauntlet of shipping through the North Atlantic. Bringing B-17’s was one thing, but the War Department was doubtful of bringing any fighters over the long trans-Atlantic route. If Tony could deliver the P-38 directly to Ohio from California, a distance of nearly 2000 miles, then Lt.Col. Kelsey’s job of convincing the Army would be that much easier.
With this new directive in mind, Tony stopped Milo Burcham after the flight-planning meeting. “Milo, a moment?”
Sending the others on their way, Milo turned back to Tony, “What do you need, Tony?”
“I was talking with Ben Kelsey a few weeks back and he wants to convince the Army to fly Lightnings to England with the bombers but they aren’t convinced a fighter can make the trip.”
Suspicious that he knew where his subordinate was going with this, Milo responded, “What do you have in mind?”
“He wants us to try to fly direct to Wright Field.” Seeing that Milo was about to voice an objection, Tony continued, “Look, I’ve crunched the numbers and we can make it.” He handed Milo his notes and as Milo reviewed them he summarized, “I can set the throttles at thirty inches and the props at 2000 RPM, from your test data that will give me over five-hundred horsepower per engine at twenty-thousand feet. If Allison and the test data is correct, that should drop consumption to less than fifty gallons per hour per engine and I should be able to make Wright in less than seven hours with fuel to spare.”
“Why didn’t you discuss this during the flight planning?”
“Kelsey doesn’t want to risk bad press so he thought it best we organize it so only a few of us know it is happening.”
“Okay, let’s see what The Boss says.”
Kelly Johnson was less receptive.
“You want to fly another damn stunt with my airplane?”
“It’s not a stunt, Mister Johnson,” Tony clarified, “it’s a proof-of-performance request from Lieutenant-Colonel Kelsey.”
Kelly steamed, “If Ben Kelsey wants a new performance test he can send the order himself.”
“Look, Kelly,” Milo jumped in, attempting to soothe Kelly’s ruffled feathers, “don’t look at it as a ‘stunt’ but as an opportunity to show the Army we have a war-winner. Plus, you know the Navy has been sniffing around for long-range fighters—we could use this to sell them on the idea of using P-38’s.”
“Kelsey cost us our XP with his and Arnold’s damn stunt, why should we risk the 422 on more of the same?”
“We have dozens of 422’s ready for delivery with hundreds more on the way. Plus, remember it was that ‘damn stunt’ that prompted the Army to order the P-38 in the first place. We’d probably be building P-40’s for Curtiss if that didn’t happen.”
Johnson fumed at Milo but knew he was right. “Alright. I’ll go along with this scheme on two conditions.” He turned to address Tony LeVier, “One, that you over-fly Topeka and if your fuel is below two-thirds you land the damn plane and refuel!”
“Absolutely.”
“And, two,” Kelly turned back to Milo Burcham, “you get Ben Kelsey on the phone so I can have a few words with him.”
* * *
The Allisons were warm and runway 26 was clear of traffic.
At 10:08 AM, Tony LeVier turned the airplane’s power up to 3000 RPM and full Military Power at 47 inches of manifold pressure. Once all four needles were at their desired place, he released the brakes and it felt like someone hit him with a shovel as he was thrown back into his seat. Over 2,600 total horsepower from the two engines propelled all eight-tons of the fuel laden 293 down the runway. After less than a quarter mile ground run he was indicating more than 100 miles per hour and he rotated the airplane, pulling back on the yoke to lift it into the air.
Once clear and with his gear and flaps up, he rolled into a slow climbing circle to the left until his heading was 57 degrees. He brought the throttles back to 44 inches and dropped the RPM to 2800 to gain 10,000 feet as quickly as possible so that he could clear the San Gabriel Mountains to the east then brought them back further to save fuel as he continued a slow climb. He was well clear of the mountains and still climbing—now breathing low-pressure oxygen on AUTO-MIX which should give him at least seven hours—when he reached his target altitude of 20,000 feet. He leveled the airplane off and waited for his airspeed to indicate 240 miles per hour then throttled back to his cruise settings of 30 inches pressure and 2000 RPM, moving his mixture back to AUTO-LEAN.
After fine-tuning the airplane—trimming it up, adjusting the throttles and his altitude to accommodate for the airspeed and altimeter installation errors, and adjusting his course to compensate for compass correction—he checked his watch again to see it was 10:25 AM. He reached his left hand back to turn the stiff fuel-selector valves off of RESERVE. He set the left engine to draw from the left external tank, and turned the right engine selector to CROSS SUCTION so it would also draw from the left external tank.
The external tanks had no fuel level indicators so he had to rely on timing and math to get the most out of them. He figured with 165 gallons at an overestimated consumption of 42 gallons per hour per engine he should be able to get 1 hours 50 minutes from each tank, with a 5 minute per tank cushion. This meant that he would need to switch to the right external tank at 12:15 PM and to his MAIN tanks at 2:05 PM, not adjusting for time zones.
The 93 gallon main tanks each supply their own engine and he should get about 2 hour 10 minutes from them, getting him to 4:15 PM. If he can maintain an indicated speed of 240 mph at this altitude that corrects to about 231 mph which works out to a True Airspeed at 20,000 feet of 311 mph, that will allow him to cover the 1,900 miles remaining to Wright Field in just over six hours, putting him there seventeen minutes after his MAINs run dry.
A glance at his Fuel Quantity gauge for the Reserve Tanks Tony saw that he had used about 30 gallons from each during his warm-up, take-off, and climb. He calculated that he could run on them for an additional forty-two minutes. Less the seventeen he needed to get to Wright Field meant he really only had a twenty-five minute reserve in the tanks plus about two minutes of fuel in the lines and around 10 minutes left over in the sump of the external tanks.
He will certainly be cutting it close the airplane should make it. The goal was to cross Forbes Field in Topeka between 2:05 PM and 2:10 PM. If he is any later than 2:15 PM, Milo recommended he reduce RPM to 1700 to conserve fuel at the cost of some speed. Kelly Johnson had put a hard limit of 2:25 PM on his time to Topeka, if he does not make it past Topeka before then Tony is ordered to land at Forbes Field and re-fuel then “sprint” to Wright Field, as originally planned.
At 11:07 AM, Tony and 293 passed over the Colorado River just north of Bullhead City. It was the first major landmark he had passed that could give him an idea of his progress and it looked promising. He was running about 11 miles per hour faster than indicated and about 15 miles north. He figured he must have a tail wind hitting him from about five o’clock and pushing him along.
Fifteen minutes later and he was passing one of the broad southern diversions of the Grand Canyon. The river was buried in the shadows of the deep gorge, just barely discernable through the ever-present blue haze of the air below him. When he passed over a second southward bend of the canyon a few minutes later, he adjusted his course a few degrees east so 293 was now heading 60 degrees.
He continued flying over the rugged desert of the southwest, watching his instruments and keeping an eye on his stopwatch. When the time came, he swapped his fuel so that the right engine drew from the right drop-tank and the left was now on CROSS SUCTION.
One trick he learned on his long flights ferrying Hudsons was to keep a vacuum flask of broth or soup in the cockpit. Having a warm meal helped to keep him alert and comfortable—made even more necessary on this flight at such an altitude. As he approached a southern spur of the Rocky Mountains the air grew colder than it had been in the desert sun and Tony took this time to pour a cup of the chicken soup he had brought along to warm his belly. After ten minutes off of oxygen he could feel the first hint of hypoxic fogginess so he polished off his cup and pulled his mask so it was once more tightly around his face.
At 1:09 PM he had left the mountain spur behind him and was passing near the Army Air Field in La Junta, Colorado. He was still tracking a few minutes ahead of schedule and needed a 10 degree course change to ensure he would cross Topeka, still about 430 miles away at 70 degrees. If his reckoning were correct, 16 minutes after passing La Junta he should be half-way to Wright Field.
The cockpit temperature continued to drop as he few farther into the mid-western prairies. With the airplane fully trimmed it practically flew itself so Tony was able take breaks to stomp his feet and rub his hands on his thighs to keep circulation flowing and coax a little warmth back into his extremities. The mixed oxygen from the low-pressure system helped a little as it at least allowed warm air into his lungs. Still, he grew more uncomfortable with each hour.
The soup broth and the cold brought on a new problem: the urgent need to empty his bladder. This forced him to go through the awkward procedure of opening his flying suit and using the “Pilot Relief Tube” secured at the front of his seat. It worked, for the most part, but trying to adjust himself in such a way as to get the funnel around the several layers of insulation he was wearing made the task more difficult than it otherwise would be. When he was done he breathed a sigh of relief that at least he would not have frozen urine soaked into his suit.
His more easterly heading over Kansas flew him into a humid crosswind coming up from the south. The air was too cold to build much power but the ground was lost under a gray carpet of low clouds and the Gulf air condensed in the chill air over the southern prairie. A minor adjustment of his rudder trim skid the plane enough to maintain his course but he knew it would cost him more fuel.
He switched his radio to receive on the pre-set channel for Forbes Field, listening in to catch the signal of unique dashes and dots which identified the airfield. What he did not realize, was that he had pre-set the radio on the wrong frequency.
* * *
Burbank, California, USA
2:30 PM Pacific Time
Hall Hibbard might have a problem on his hands. He had just been forwarded an emergency phone call from Forbes Field outside Topeka, Kansas, that Tony LeVier and the P-38F was over forty minutes late for his scheduled refueling stop and that they had been unable to raise him on radio.
He sent a runner to find Milo Burcham and in the meantime had his assistants get a copy of the flight plan from the filing office. The flight plan revealed that LeVier was to fly direct to Forbes Fields, via La Junta Army Airfield in Colorado.
He called La Junta first and they confirmed that an airplane identifying as “Army Two-Nine-Three” had checked in at 14:10 Mountain Time. Referencing the flight plan, Hall noted that at the planned speed, LeVier should have cleared La Junta twenty minutes before that. He could only hope Milo would have the answers.
A few minutes later, at 2:50 PM, Milo Burcham came to Hall’s office accompanied by Kelly Johnson. As soon as Hall saw them together, he knew they had pulled the wool over his eyes.
“What the hell is going on!?”
In answer, Kelly handed Hall the Western Union telegram he had been holding.
XXXXXXX BURBANK CALIF APR 14 1942 924AM
LOCKHEED CORPORATION=
:C.K.JOHNSON
KELLY,
FORMALLY REQUEST LONG RANGE FLIGHT TEST NONSTOP TO WRIGHT ON DELIVERY TODAY=
LT COL B.S.KELSEY=
:MATERIEL COMMAND USAAF=
* * *
Above Indiana, USA
5:55 PM Central Time
Tony LeVier never did get a hold of Forbes Field so he settled on simple dead reckoning to keep his course. As the cloud floor broke up east of the Mississippi he was able to get a better idea of where he was when sighted Springfield a few miles to the north. A slight easterly turn and he was pointed toward Dayton, Ohio and wright field.
Now, with his clock reading 3:55 PM California time he was passing Indianapolis. His Fuel Quantity gauge for the main tanks read less than 10 gallons remaining in each, or about 12 minutes flight time. Indianapolis was still 120 miles from Wright Field. Although he was still indicating over 235 mph the wind had shifted to his two-o’clock so he was sure his ground speed was a bit less than 300 mph. That should put him at Wright in 25 minutes.
He should make it.
Comfortable with his fuel load and drawing closer to his destination he decided he could spare a little extra burn to get down to some warmer air. Nosing down a few degrees he brought 293 all the way down to 9,000 feet where he could turn off his oxygen and try to thaw the ice blocks that were his toes.
Once down he switched his tank selectors back to RESERVE for both engines—his last fuel switch of the long flight—and set is radio to the Wright Airfield frequency. This time, he had it correct and almost immediately started to hear sporadic chatter from the busy airfield.
When Tony saw Wright Airfield materialize out of the horizonal haze his lips curled into a smile. A glance at his RESERVE tank levels told him he still had about 30 minutes of fuel and only five minutes of flight. His smirk broadened to a full grin, “Then again, that should be just enough…”
“Wright Tower, Army Two-Nine-Three. Request pressure altitude.”
The modulated voice crackled through his earpiece, “Army Two-Nine-Three, Wright Tower. Altimeter three-zero-point-zero-eight.”
“Three-zero-zero-eight, roger.”
After adjusting his altimeter to the proper setting and getting clearance to land, Tony did something he had not originally planned to do but that his excitement and relief demanded.
Moving his mixture controls up to AUTO-RICH, he increased RPM to 3000 and pushed his throttles up to 47 inches while nosing over. His altimeter dropped as he approached the field and his speed climbed, the Allisons sucking down the fuel at almost four times the rate they were on his cruise. He screamed over the airfield doing 350 mph at 500 feet and turned the airplane in a graceful celebratory roll as he passed the tower.
At 7:28 PM Eastern Time as the sun sank toward the western horizon, Tony and 41-2293 came to a stop on the bitumen at Wright Field. Tony was greeted by a smiling Ben Kelsey and '293 had less than 5 minutes of fuel in her.
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You don't need to face -40 degree temperatures to justify insulated flying suits. Trust me, I'm a Minnesotan, cold is something I know well
Image you are a Japanese airman, stationed in Tropical or Sub-Tropical heat, and you have to fly up to where the air is only 10 or 20 degrees F. That is probably at least a 60-70 degree drop from the temps you are accustomed to and more than enough to want to wear heavy cold-weather gear. Remember, when sitting still you can go hypothermic in air as warm as 50 or 60 degrees F--it just takes longer and is easier to fight off. Get below freezing and it can be down right intolerable.
As a more relate-able example: Image you are a Southern Californian and you are hit with a "cold front" of 40 degree F air. I can almost promise you'll be throwing on the heaviest winter jacket you own. Funny story about this--about 18 months ago my wife and I traveled to San Diego in January. When we boarded the plane at MSP the gangway was frosted on the inside with the outside air temp at -25 F (-35 F with wind chill). We had to wait because one of the lavatories on the airplane had frozen and they wanted to thaw it out, giving up after 40 minutes. When we landed in San Diego it was 65 degrees and overcast, 100 degrees warmer than what we had left. Walking along the beach in LaJolla we were wearing shorts and t-shirts with bare feet...the locals were wearing sweaters and wind-breakers and looking at us like we had lost our minds. The moral of the story? "Cold" is relative